Blessed Be
by BlueEyedAngel636
Summary: FINISHED! COMPLETED! A young woman's life is altered drastically by a murder and suicide. Help is offered by a group of people that she once looked down upon, but will her own pride be her worst enemy, or will her worst enemy be the love of her life?
1. Chapter One

"Blessed Be"  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own the Newsies, though I would love to; it would be a lot of fun for all of us! ;o)  
  
Chapter One  
  
Life is funny. It's strong, yet weak. It's interesting how one moment in time could alter one's life so drastically. One second is all that it takes to change the course of one's future.  
  
Tara awoke with a start. The angry sound of a gun shot reverberated throughout her house and shattered her world as she knew it. As Tara leapt from her bed, she reached for her bathrobe before she realized how unimportant that was and left it. Fueled merely on adrenaline, she dashed down the hall and into her parent's bedroom. Flinging the door open she came to a complete stop, physically and mentally. What she saw would always replay itself in her mind whenever she closed her eyes.  
  
Her mother was sprawled across the bed, a glazed look in her eyes. It seemed as if she was looking at Tara, her mouth slightly ajar, like she was about to call for help. A crimson stain was slowly creeping across the white linen, soiling the bed.  
  
Though she did not want to believe it, she knew that her mom was dead.  
  
Tara looked from her mom to the barrel of the offending gun which was now aimed at her. The handler of the gun was a familiar face to Tara. A face that had once held such love and devotion for his family. One whose mind was slowly sickening with time: her father.  
  
Stunned with disbelief, Tara started shaking her head from side to side, as if in doing so she could deny the inevitable. Her father's face held such determination that she knew that this was the last moment that she would be alive. Her life did not flash before her eyes like she had once heard, but rather a future of nothingness haunted her.  
  
Another gunshot sliced through the silence and she felt a cold piercing through her shoulder. Not pain, just a numbing, paralyzing ice. Tara fell to the floor from the jarring of the bullet and lay there, afraid to move. Then she chanced to glance at her father, and saw the worst sight she had witnessed yet.  
  
Her father's hand was shaking as he raised the gun to his sweaty temple. As a tear crawled from the corner of his eye, he pulled the trigger and killed himself.  
  
That was the last thing that Tara saw before her world went black.  
  
Well, I hope that you all enjoyed Chapter One! Review if like, but it's no big if you don't. Chapter Two should be out in about a week, so look for it, okay?!?! Thanks! Luv ya! :Your Blue Eyed Angel: 


	2. Chapter Two

A/N: Wow! I really wasn't expecting reviews so soon, so thank you soooo much! It really gives me more incentive to write! Clover, thank you for your compliment. It's hard not knowing if others see what you see inside of your own head, you know? And Southern Spell, thanks to you also! I know, poor girl, right! Thanks again you guys!!  
  
Chapter Two  
  
"How are the headlines taday, Jack?" Kid Blink asked his friend. The two sat outside the distribution office, scanning their papers. It was a daily ritual, and one of the more calm moments of their days.  
  
"Pretty good. Looks like we got another psycho socialite. Bank vice president killed his wife, shot his daughter, and then killed himself. Looks like we don't hafta make anything up on this one." Jack said with a smirk.  
  
"What's wrong with dose people anyways? They got everything that they can want, and it's never enough. If I had dat kinda money, I would be the happiest man on da face of da earth." Kid replied.  
  
"It don't say anything about the girl though. Maybe we could work with dat a bit." Jack said as he rolled ideas through his mind.  
  
"Hey, it says here dat da father was in debt up ta his eyeballs. That's awesome. He was screwin' normal people out of dere money, and spendin' it all on himself." Kid Blink remarked.  
  
"Dat's life though. The rich get richer, and the poor get poorer. Pretty shitty, huh?" Jack sighed. He got up and hefted his load onto his shoulder. He was going to make sure that he was not sleeping outside tonight. His papers would sell quickly enough though, people were always more interested in hearing that someone else's life was worse than theirs, especially if that someone else was rich. He made his way through the crowd, calling out headlines as he heard the ritual chorus of his friends behind him.  
  
Tara opened her eyes and squinted from the sunlight pouring into her room. Not her room, she realized, but rather a tiny box of a room. The walls were a plain white and seemed to be closing in on her. For a split second, she wondered why she was not in her own cozy bed, but then she remembered.  
  
The gun. Her father. Her mother. Oh God.  
  
The images from the past events passed through her mind. She felt her stomach tense, and knew that she was going to throw up. She looked around frantically, and spotted a bedpan next to her bed. She grabbed it just in time and started heaving into it. Then, a rolling pain in her shoulder made her recoil.  
  
Her father had shot her. Her father, a man who had never once laid a hand on her in anger had tried to kill her. Tara felt her eyes start to water, but held back. She was feeling too much pain to cry. Her soul was shattered, her world as she knew it was blank. She wished that her father had killed her, because surely death must feel better than this emptiness.  
  
The door to her room opened, and a young doctor came in, with a man in a suit following closely.  
  
"Ahhh, Miss McCartle, your awake. Good. I'm Doctor Rosney. We were getting worried about you. You've been asleep for quite a while. It's been eight days since the incident. How are you feeling?" He asked in his placating doctor's voice.  
  
Saying nothing, Tara just stared at him behind blank eyes.  
  
"Ok, if you don't feel like talking, I don't blame you. This here is Mr. Malone, and he is going to explain your current situation." He said, and with that, he left her with this man in the room.  
  
"Miss McCartle, I used to be your father's attorney. Let me start off by saying that I'm sorry for you loss. Your father was a great man."  
  
With that last comment, Tara let out a very unladylike snort. "I would hope that not all 'great men' murder their wife and then kill themselves. Yeah, he was an amazing person." She responded full of cynicism.  
  
Mr. Malone was shocked. This sarcasm was the last thing that he had expected out of her. Her next comment shocked him even more. "So, are you going to tell me what my current situation is, or are you just going to stand there, wasting my time?" She asked. Hatred and contempt dripped from her tongue like honey from a biscuit. She couldn't help it though. Her pain was just under the surface, boiling until she was afraid that it would burn over. Rather than dealing with that pain, she responded with malice, it was all that she had.  
  
"Fine then. Miss McCartle. Your broke. You have no money. Is that what you want to hear? Your father had many debts, and the only way to pay that was to liquidate your assets. All you have left is fifteen hundred dollars. I suggest that you spend it wisely." And with that, he left the room.  
  
Tara leaned back on her pillow. She understood his words, but she couldn't believe them. Debts? Her father had made plenty of money, why would he be in debt? She then realized that she had no home. Surely the bank must have sold it to pay them off. The full impact of the hopelessness of her situation hit her, and she stared off into space. She was an orphan. What was worse than being an orphan was being a poor homeless orphan. Well she would be damned if she was not going to a have a place to sleep at night. She fell asleep wracking her brain, trying to find out where she could work. Her last conscious thought was that she wished that her father's aim had been true. 


	3. Chapter Three

A/N: Clover, you nearly gave me a heart attack when you said that the second chapter didn't go through!! All my sweat and blood down the drain!!! Good thing I saved it, hehe. Thanks again for the great review, and the newsies will be along in a couple more chapters. Thanks again! And The Angry Princess, don't you just feel so sorry for her?!? I'm glad that you like it, and I hope you like the chapters to come!  
  
Chapter Three  
(A little over one month later)  
  
Tara walked along the streets of New York at a swift pace. If she bumped into someone, she just kept on going. She had a mission in mind, and no one was going to stop her. All of the sudden, she slammed into what felt like a brick wall, and fell to the ground.  
  
"Oh, sorry miss. I guess we didn't see eachotha!" Spot said as he attempted to help Tara up.  
  
Tara yanked her arm out of Spot's grasp and helped herself up. "Don't touch me you little urchin!" She said in reply with a glare. "And watch where you're going!" She finished as she looked down her nose at him.  
  
"Urchin!? Sweetheart, you don't look much betta den me right now, do ya realize that?" He said, feeling temper rise.  
  
"Ugh, just watch where you're going, alright?" Tara replied in frustration as she walked away.  
  
"Yeah!? Well...same ta you! Bitch." He yelled. The thing that he hated the most was when people talked down to him, and she had made him feel like crap. He pushed her out of his mind, and went back to selling his papers.  
  
Tara felt a little guilty about how she responded to the boy. It really wasn't his fault, and he was nothing but nice to her, but there was no going back now. Lately, she seemed to address all people as if they were attacking her. It was easier for her if people though that she was a high class bitch than an orphan in mourning. She felt the ever present agony churn within her, but she suppressed it as she turned the corner. There was her house. She had to go in there. She couldn't go in there. It looked so cheery. It was as if nothing bad could have happened in that house. She opened the cast iron fence gate and gazed at the house. The white of the walls was offset by the blue around the windows, on the shutters, and on the door.  
  
She walked up the stone path to the steps of the porch and climbed them. Each one gave a moan of protest as she stepped up. As she walked in the door, memories slammed into her, nearly knocking her over as the newsboy had done earlier. She blocked them out and ran upstairs to her bedroom.  
  
The bank had not needed to repossess hers or her mothers' jewelry. Tara figured she could pawn off her jewelry to make ends meet, but she would treasure her mothers.  
  
She quickly opened the door to her jewelry box and took the necklaces from their hooks. Placing them carefully in her bag, she opened the drawers and did the same with the rings, broaches, bracelets and earrings. When she finished this, she made her way to her parent's bedroom with less enthusiasm than she had with her room.  
  
She opened the door; half expecting it to look like it had that night. But there was no sign of a murder. No sign that her life had changed at all. She closed her eyes and could picture her father standing by the bed, straightening his ever crooked neck tie. And her mother, she was sitting on the bed, struggling to hook the clasp of the bracelet her father had bought her. The one he had bought out of stolen money. All of the sudden, the picture changed, and it was her mother, still on the bed, but with blood pouring over her. And her father, over the bed with his gun. Her mother tried to call Tara's name, and Tara tried to go to her, but something was holding her back.  
  
Tara opened her eyes with a start, and looked back at the peaceful room. She almost broke down in tears for the first time since that night, but held them back. Then, as a woman on a mission, she collected her mother's jewelry and left the house.  
  
She headed down the street to her only true friend's house. She avoided the curious glances of her old neighbors, and had to bite back a retort from a group of girls that she had once hung out with. Nikki would not respond to her in that way, at least, Tara prayed to God that she would not. She found the house, went straight to the door and knocked. When the door opened, she barely even saw the familiar face of her friend before she was engulfed in a hug that she could barely breathe in. Tara knew that she had come to the right place.  
  
After catching Nikki up on her situation, Nikki leaned back and started to think. The good think about Nikki was that not only she was extremely smart, but she was also realistic.  
  
"Well, you have the $1500 left over, and you said that you would be willing to pawn off your jewelry for more, correct? You realize that you would never get back anything remotely close to what your father paid for the pieces, right?" Nikki asked.  
  
Tara nodded, waiting for more.  
  
"Tara, stay with us! You know that mum and dad would be more than happy to have you, right?" Nikki pleaded. She hated seeing her best friend in this situation.  
  
"Nikki, I can't do that! You know that I cannot! Thank you very much, but I need to make my way in the world. I have been living in a cocoon my whole life. I need to see what it's all about. Is it really so bad that my father would kill because of it? Or was he just unstable? I need to find out. Please understand." She pleaded.  
  
"Which would be worse? A mean world or an unstable mind?" Nikki asked carefully. Tara just shook her head and shrugged her shoulders, her eyes full of just pain that Nikki had to look away.  
  
"Well then, do you realize what this means? You need to get a job, and an apartment. Do you think that you can do it?" Nikki asked.  
  
"Yes. And I know just who to ask about a job. Do you remember Mr. Razini? He owns that little Italian restaurant in Manhattan, near the bridge?" At Nikki's nod, she continued on. "Well, my mother grew up with him. I know that he would give me a job! I'd do anything he tells me!"  
  
"All right, but if you need anything, do you promise to come here? Even if you don't, just come and say hello, okay?" Nikki pleaded with tears in her eyes.  
  
Tara promised that she would, and with one last shaky goodbye, she made her way to the Razini's Place, once again praying that she would be welcome. 


	4. Chapter Four

A/N: Disturbed-girl (Nikki), It was my pleasure to put you in here, even though your not that smart or realistic ;o) J/K, sort of! Angry Princess, I'm glad you still like it, and keep reading. Clover, patience!! And don't worry, she isn't a Mary Sue!!  
  
Chapter Four  
  
"Mr. Razini, I am begging you for your help. I don't know where else to go. I need this job. I'll be a good worker, I promise you. If you don't hire me, I'll end up sleeping on the streets. You couldn't sleep right knowing your old friend's daughter is sleeping on the streets, could you?" Tara knew that last part was a low blow, but she was desperate. She'd never had to beg anyone for anything ever in her life, and she was not going to be unsuccessful at her first whack at it. "Please Mr. Razini."  
  
"Look, bella, the only position we have open is busgirl, and I'm sure that you would not..."  
  
"I'll take it!" Tara interrupted. She had told Nikki that she would do anything that he told her to do for money, and she wasn't lying. Being a busgirl couldn't be that bad, could it?  
  
"Are you sure bella?" Mr. Razini asked, skeptical.  
  
"Absolutely." Tara replied firmly.  
  
"Well, welcome to Razini's Place." He said. "It isn't too impressive. I tried to supply good Old World Italian food to those people who can't afford to eat at the richest places. Not all of our customers are the classiest people, but they are characters. Those are the people that you serve, and those are the people who tip you, so show respect and obedience."  
  
Tara nodded as he raddled off the list of her duties. It seemed as if being a busgirl wasn't as easy as she thought. Getting refills, clearing empty dishes, boxing up food, doing anything that the waitresses tell her to do, clearing, cleaning, and setting tables. Tara, someone who was used to being on the receiving end of those services was now doing them for the people she had always thought were under her. Irony is a bitch.  
  
(One month later)  
  
Tara woke up in her single room apartment overlooking the river and shuddered. She was having another one of her dreams. This time, her mother was calling to her for help before her father shot her, and Tara had tried to get to her, but was unable to. She woke up at the sound of the blast from her father's gun.  
  
That dream, or one like it was practically a nightly ritual. Tara realized that she was not going to fall back asleep and looked out her window. Her river view would have been nicer sounding if it wasn't in Brooklyn. She sighed as a piece of garbage floated past a man who was urinating in the water. A little ways down, some newsboys were swimming in that very water. Disgusting.  
  
She dragged herself out of bed, and decided to take her time getting ready for work. Ugh, work. It wasn't too bad, if she kept her mind elsewhere. She didn't have friends there, but that was alright. Tara knew that that was her own fault. She kept to herself. She worked hard, but she didn't really want to become close to these people. She would end up losing them in the end somehow, which is why she ostracized herself from Nikki.  
  
That was the hardest. She missed having someone to talk to or gossip with. She missed, well, she missed people. But she was getting used to being alone in a way.  
  
Tara glanced in her mirror, which was a mistake. Her long hair was getting frizzy from split ends and darkening. Where it once was golden and shinning, it was dirty blonde and lifeless. Her skin, in contrast to her hair had lightened. She never really went outside unless she was going to work or getting food. And her eyes, they were like her hair, lifeless. They had once been a brilliant blue, but had dulled. If she hadn't noticed this process over the last couple of months, she would have thought that she was seeing a stranger.  
  
At least she could do something about her hair, though. As she reached into her drawer for her scissors, she prepared for yet another changed. She grabbed a handful of hair, which was nearly to her waist, and cut off a little over a foot off. Tara held that lock of hair in her hand, and almost wanted to cry. Not because of her hair, but because of the hopelessness of her situation. But she had made a vow that she would not cry, and she stuck by that. It was the only thing that she had.  
  
Spot and a few of his friends made their way over the Brooklyn Bridge towards Manhattan. Jack, Race, and Kid were meeting them at Razini's for dinner. The place was better than other places they had eaten at, and the old man gave them a deal. He saw his friends just outside of the restaurant, and grinned. He hadn't seen them in a while; he had been too busy busting his ass for money. He had almost saved enough.  
  
After their hello's, the boys went in and found a table.  
  
"So Spot, how've ya been lately?" Jack asked.  
  
"Not bad, not bad. Keepin' busy, but that ain't nothin' new." He replied. They told the waiter what they wanted, and Race entertained them with a story about what happened at the racetrack.  
  
"And den, da horse, instead of crossin' da finish line, tossed his rider, cleared the fence and raced in da centa of the arena. I mean, ya shoulda seen da look on dat poor guys' face, and den..."  
  
"Whoa, check dat out boys!" Kid exclaimed. The boys followed his line of sight and, of course, it was a girl. She had blonde hair that reached to the middle of her back, and blue eyes. Her high cheekbones accented her small aristocratic nose. She was very thin, almost too skinny. He couldn't explain why, but he recognized her from somewhere. And then, it hit him. The girl that he had run into, over a month ago. He knew what it was the jogged his memory, it was her arrogance. Her appearance had changed, but the arrogance was still there. You could tell how she looked at people that she thought she was better than them, even though she was the one doing to serving. Interesting, he thought as his eyes narrowed on her.  
  
Tara felt someone's eyes boring into and turned to see who it was. It was a guy around her age dressed in grungy clothing. He was surrounded by a group who were in equal states of disarray. They stared at each other, a silent challenge of who would look away first. She made her way to the back, and would have to pass their table. As she passed, she gave him the once over, lifted her eyebrow, rolled her eyes, and walked past, her head held high.  
  
The group of guys around Spot burst out in laughter. "Whoa Spot, looks like ya finally met your match!" Jack laughed. At that time, their waiter Jimmy set down their drinks.  
  
"Hey Jimmy," Spot called, "what's up wid little miss high-and-mighty over der?"  
  
"Oh, that's Tara." Jimmy said.  
  
"Why's she got a stick up her ass?" Spot's friend Jay asked.  
  
"She's not really a bitch, Jay. She just keeps to herself. She has good reason to, though. I would be if I were in her situation." Jimmy said sadly.  
  
"What do ya mean?" Jack asked.  
  
"Well that's a sad story in itself. But you guys should know it, I mean; ya do read the papers, don't you?" He replied smugly. "Remember about two months ago. That big bank guy who killed his wife and shit his daughter and himself? Well, that's the daughter. Yeah, really sad, that one. Good worker, but she's one sad girl." Jimmy said as he walked away.  
  
"Yeah, I remember dat one." Jack said.  
  
"Didn't even have to lie about it. Jeez. I guess that kinda explains it. But why ain't she sittin' at home, livin' off her inheritance?" Spot wondered. The other boys just shrugged.  
  
As she walked by again, Spot tried not to look in her eyes, but he couldn't seem to help it. They once again made eye contact, and what he saw in her eyes ripped at his gut. There was so much anger there, and under that, just plain anguish. It hurt him to look in her eyes, so he distracted himself with his friends.  
  
Tara blew off that strange boy and kept working. Thankfully, it was almost eight; break time. It was starting to die down in the restaurant, and she asked Jimmy if he would mind if she went outside.  
  
"Be my guest. Not much to do in here." He said.  
  
She walked out the back, not noticing that someone had noticed her, and decided to follow her out.  
  
Tara sat down on a crate and rubbed her aching feet. She then fished around in her apron for a cigarette. That was just one more thing about her that had changed. But she didn't care.  
  
"Shit." She said when she realized she forget her matches.  
  
"Need a light?" The boy!! He had followed her! What gall.  
  
Without waiting for her to respond, he struck the match against the brick of the building and held it up for her. Leaning forward, but never breaking eye contact with him, she allowed him to light her cigarette. She inhaled deeply, felt that sweet smoke hit her lungs and let the calming effects of the nicotine flow through her body. Tara eyed him suspiciously as he mirrored her actions.  
  
"You don't recognize me, do ya?" Spot asked with a smirk.  
  
Tara continued to stare. She recalled something about his eyes, but not much else.  
  
"I believe your term for me was...urchin." He reminded. He knew the second that she recognized him, because she glanced at the ground.  
  
"Yeah, sorry, I guess. I was having a bad day. But you should watch were your going." She said. Oh my God. She didn't think she would see him again. Oh well. That's life. And life does suck, so she shouldn't be surprised. "But, much to my extreme displeasure, my breaks over." She crushed her cigarette with her shoe and started to head in.  
  
"It's been great catching up with you. We'll really have to do it another time!" She said, her words dripping with sarcasm. And with that, she went inside.  
  
"Oh, you can count on it sweetheart." Spot said smugly and made his way back inside to his friends. 


	5. Chapter Five

A/N: BlackWiltedRose, thank you for the compliment. Give the two of them time, you'll see what will happen!!  
  
Chapter Five  
  
After Tara woke up on Sunday and started getting ready for work, she realized that today was her day off. In fact, it was her very first day off since she started working there. And while standing there, she did a little happy dance and a twirl in front of the mirror. Big mistake. She saw herself. When had she gotten so skinny? She asked her self. When you work all the time and have little money, its hard finding food. Once again, she looked in the mirror, but this time she took off her robe.  
  
She could clearly see about ten of her ribs poking out from her side. Where she used to have curvy hips, her waist melted into her legs. And where she used to have decent sized breasts, well, she didn't want to get into that.  
  
So Tara planned her day around grocery shopping. She glanced at her clothes; they were due for a good cleaning also. And who knows, maybe she'd go out to eat tonight? Her apartment was a mess also. How can such a small place attract so much dirt? She'd clean today also.  
  
So Tara started pumping water into a bucket, added a little bit of precious soap, grabbed a cloth, and cleaned the grime away. It took just a little over an hour, but she did it. A girl that had never cleaned in her life and her apartment shined. She was kind of proud of herself in a way.  
  
Now onto her clothes. When she was little, she used to think that it was a great game to help Nanny with the laundry. So, when she spotted a board in the closet, she got to work.  
  
After two hours, her whole body was aching, but all of her skirts, blouses, pantyhose, and other undergarments were hanging up both inside and outside of her room. Tara smiled. Now onto shopping. But first, she went to how much money she had left.  
  
Only $500, she won't be able to stretch it for much longer. She looked sadly at the drawer that held her and her mother's jewelry. Not yet. She still had some money left. So Tara grabbed fifty dollars, got dressed in her last clean skirt and blouse, and went to shop. On her way, she passed the Brooklyn distribution office. No one really noticed her, she received a couple of whistles and hoots, but she just ignored them. Only one newsboy took notice and followed.  
  
"Buy a pape, miss?" Spot asked.  
  
Tara rolled her eyes and turned to him. "Well, fancy meeting you here. Are you following me?" She asked composedly. Why, oh why did she keep running into him? Fate, she thought. She hated fate.  
  
"Why, yes, I just might be." He replied with a smirk. "Da names Spot."  
  
Tara lifted an eyebrow at his name. "Tara." She replied coolly. She turned around and started walking, Spot following her like a shadow.  
  
"So, I guess your not gonna by a pape?"  
  
"Will buying a 'pape' get you to leave me alone?" She asked.  
  
"Probably not."  
  
Tara hid a small smile at that. "Fine." She reached in her purse and drew out a penny. "Anything good in there?"  
  
"Not really, same old boring shit. Fire, murder, and high society's miniscule but oh-so-important problems." At that last part, Spot cursed himself under his breath. She was starting to lighten up, and once again, her eyes cooled over.  
  
"I'm sorry, but I have a lot to do today. If you'll excuse me." She said. And with that, she turned on her heel and strode away from him.  
  
"Shit. I'm such an asshole! Way ta just blow dat one Spot." He thought. He'd see her again. He'd redeem himself. Spot started calling out headlines and made his way into the crowd.  
  
Tara had started to buy meat and potatoes, but then she realized that not only didn't she not know how to cook; she was lacking things to cook with. Even if she had those things, they would be useless; she didn't have a stove or an oven. So, she stuck to buying bread, apples, oranges, and other various fruits instead.  
  
By the time she made it back to her apartment, the sun was starting to go down. She brought her groceries inside and decided to eat out, something she hadn't enjoyed in a long time.  
  
She wandered the streets until she found a cute little place. "Hmm, Cerino's. Doesn't sound too bad." She thought. It was a small Italian restaurant. It reminded her of Razini's Place and she smiled. She went in and was greeted by smells that made her stomach growl and her mouth water. The hostess seated her in a corner and she sat down looking at her menu.  
  
When the waitress came to take her order, she knew exactly what she wanted and ordered the Chicken Parmesan with angel hair pasta, her favorite.  
  
She didn't know how, but she had managed to eat the entire monstrous meal. She practically felt her stomach grow and dance happily. She smiled. For the first time in a while, she was content. Before leaving, she cleaned up the scraps of paper and put them on the plate. She piled her dishes up so that it would he easier for the busgirl to clean. She had a new found respect for those in the service industry. She paid her bill, set a generous tip on the table, and left the restaurant. By this time it was completely dark out, so she made her way quickly down the street. All of the sudden when she was going down an alleyway, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Someone, or maybe two someone's were following her. She picked up her pace, but they grabbed her arm. She was swung around and looked at her assailants.  
  
She had no idea who they were. One of them had a small moustache and was quite big. The other was almost as tall as her and a lot skinnier. Tara decided that if they were going to try and kill her, she wasn't going down without a fight.  
  
The smaller of the one was the one that held her arm. Tara reared up and kneed him in the groin. When he doubled over, she grabbed his head and kneed him in the nose. He went down and she kicked him in the stomach. He lay on the ground and she glanced at his partner. This guy was much bigger than her. He was at least a half of a foot over her 5'8" height, and packed with muscle. She knew that she didn't stand a chance. Tara quickly turned around and started running. She almost made it to the exit of the alley, but she felt his hand grab a handful of her hair and yank her back. She let out a scream of pain and fell backward. Promptly, he started kicking her in the stomach. He then kicked her in her shoulder. She felt the pain course through her body. It was the shoulder where her father had shot her, and she felt her vision blackening. But through sheer will, she stayed conscious. Her eyes started gathering tears of pain, and she accepted that she was going to die.  
  
Spot was walking down the street back to the lodging house after selling the evening edition, but he stopped when he heard a cry. Thinking one of his boys were in trouble, he tore through the streets of Brooklyn. He ran down an alley and saw a big figure kicking a smaller on in the stomach. He ran at the guy and tackled him. Spot landed on top and started punching the guy in his face. He then grabbed the guy's hair and slammed his head into the ground. The guy was out cold. He kicked him a couple more times in his ribs for good measure and stood there, staring at his handiwork.  
  
Spot heard a whimper to his right, he had forgotten about his newsie. He looked, and his stomach clutched. It wasn't one of his newsies, it was Tara. He fell to his knees and touched her face. She started at his touch, but opened her eyes.  
  
"Spot?" She asked shakily.  
  
"Shh, sweetheart. You're okay. Just lay der for a sec." He said. He looked down and saw blood. He knew that he had to get her inside. His lodging house was too far away to carry her.  
  
"Do ya live around here, Tara?" She nodded.  
  
"Just a couple of buildings to the left." He picked her up and she stiffened from the pain in her shoulder. He had a new found respect for her. This girl had endured so much but was still strong. He held her a bit closer, reveling in the way that her body held him with such trust, and made her way to her apartment.  
  
Once he got inside with her help, he laid her down on the bed and looked around. Her room was even smaller than his at the lodging house. He felt pain for her. He grabbed a cloth that was hanging from the bed post and ripped it into pieces.  
  
"Tara, I need ta unbutton your shirt. Your shoulders bleedin'. Do ya trust me?" He asked.  
  
She nodded her assent and he started to unbutton her shirt. Thank god she had a shift on underneath, he didn't want to be distracted. Just like he thought, her shoulder was bleeding where she got shot. He peeled the shirt off of her wound and heard her hiss of pain. He tried to ignore it. He knew that he had to clean the wound and bind it so that it wouldn't get an infection. He had seen too many of his boys get an infection, and then, the fever. He refused to let this happen to her.  
  
Spot pumped some water onto another cloth and proceeded cleaning the wound. He knew from experience how much this hurt her, but never the less, he had to do it. After cleaning it, he wrapped it in the cloths that he had ripped up before. Somewhere in the process, she had passed out. That was for the better. She wouldn't feel any pain and she needed rest to recover.  
  
He sat down next to her on the bed and touched her face. She looked to fragile when she slept. Not like she did when her first saw her, with hard eyes and a cool demeanor. She wasn't as tough as she let on. Spot leaned down and kissed her on her forehead. He vowed then and there that he would protect her. He didn't know why he felt such possessiveness and a need of protection for her, but he did. He sat down in her one chair and prepared himself for an uncomfortable night of sleep. 


	6. Chapter Six

A/N: I feel so loved!!! Hehe. I want to give a big THANK YOU to all of my reviewers. I appreciate your support! And Nicki, you're very welcome. Of course I'm going to put my best friend in my story! Even though you don't do the same for me. :o( (hint, hint) To my new reviewers, thank you for reading! KatFightOnSkis...interesting name. I like it. Thanks for the compliment and keep reviewing. And Morgan, thank you for reviewing. Don't worry, I'll keep writing! And finally, Black Wilted Rose, thank you for sticking with the story and reviewing! Luv you guys!  
  
Chapter Six  
  
Morgan woke from the ritual nightmare with a jolt. She let out a tiny shriek and sat up quickly, which was a big mistake. Pain shot through her like lightening, and once again she cried out.  
  
Spot woke up when he heard her cry out and was immediately by the side of her bed. "Shh, you're okay. Just lay back down." He said, worried about her shoulder.  
  
"Spot? What are you doing here?" Tara asked confused. Why had he stayed?  
  
"Well, I mean, da lodging house is kinda far, and it's kinda cold out, so I decided to stick around." He replied shrugging it off. It was a total lie and both he and Tara knew it.  
  
"Spot, um, it's about seventy degrees outside." She remarked.  
  
Spot was going to say another lie, but at her steady gaze, he told the truth. "I guess I just wanted to make sure you'se alright. Well, you look good, so I'll just be..."  
  
"Stay! I mean, if you want to." Tara suddenly found great interest in her feet. Spot felt great elation at her outburst.  
  
"If ya really want me to, I guess I could..."  
  
"No. If you don't want to, then..."  
  
They both looked at each other. Spot started to grin and Tara let out a laugh, surprising herself. She hadn't laughed in a long time, and it felt good. They laughed a little harder, but the shaking of her body bothered her shoulder, and she hissed out a breath in pain, tears starting to fill her eyes.  
  
"Hey, come on. Just lay back, you'll feel better." She did as he said, and he was right. Her shoulder didn't bother her as much as it did before. Spot sat back in the chair, and waited to fall back asleep.  
  
Tara looked at the uncomfortable position he was in and bit her lip. Her mind was at war with itself. If she told him to lie on the bed, it would be too forward. But he had done so much for her tonight, and she owed him at least his comfort. Oh, screw it.  
  
"Spot, if you want, you can lie down with me. That chair isn't the most comfortable thing."  
  
Spot looked at her and grinned. She was finally coming around. He made his way to the bed, but before he could climb in, she stopped him.  
  
"On top of the sheets." She ordered, predicting his thoughts.  
  
As he lay down on the sheets, he put his arm behind his head as a pillow.  
  
For some reason she felt as if she owed him an explanation about her shoulder. "Look, I don't know if you were wondering about what happened to me." He just looked at her. "My shoulder..." she began.  
  
"I already know." He replied softly. She shot him a look. "Hey, I sell papes for a living. I just had ta put two and two tagether ta figure it out. And I'm sorry, ya know, about everything." He said, sorrow filling his eyes.  
  
Tara was silent for a moment. "Well then Spot, I seem to find myself at a disadvantage." He just looked at her. "Well, you seem to know a lot about me, and I know very little about you. I mean, I know that your name is Spot, you sell newspapers for a living, and you're extremely arrogant." She said with a grin.  
  
"I am not arrogant. You on the other hand, my dear..."  
  
"Look, it takes an arrogant person to see one of her own kind, you know." She replied mischievously. "Let's play a game."  
  
"A game." He said haltingly, not sure of where she was going.  
  
"Yes, a game. I ask you a question, you answer, and in turn, you ask me a question. Tit-for-Tat."  
  
"Okay." He was confused. Where had this side of her come from? His view of her as a spoiled bitch was completely annihilated when she transformed into this funny girl in front of him.  
  
"Spot, do you have a last name?"  
  
"Yeah, it's Conlon."  
  
"Irish?"  
  
"I do believe it's my turn. Tit-for-Tat?" He joked.  
  
"Touché."  
  
"How old are you?"  
  
"Twenty." She replied. "You?"  
  
"Twenty-one."  
  
Hmm...interesting. Somehow in the course of these questions, his arm had wrapped around behind her shoulders, and she had shifted closer to him. Very interesting. They played the questions game for a little while longer until she yawned and he called it to a halt. She laid her head down on his chest and slowly drifted of to sleep, feeling for the first time in a long while that she was safe and secured.  
  
Spot stroked her arm while she slept. Shit Conlon, he thought. Why'd ya hafta go and fall for an uptown girl? She may not look the part anymore, but she was one through and through. Shit.  
  
It was about one week later when he finally let her get out of the apartment. She was clawing at the walls in boredom. Literally. She had carved her name into the wall, the bedpost, and door and the windowsill. Mr. Razini had let her take as much time as she needed off until she was healed. Spot and she had a daily ritual. In the morning he would leave to sell papers, letting her sleep. He would get back in the afternoon with a sandwich and whatever his didn't eat for her lunch. They would talk for a while, and then he would leave to sell the evening edition. After that he would go to the lodging house to check in, but he would always return every night. Tara found herself missing him when he was gone, and looking forward to when he would be back.  
  
This afternoon was different. After selling the morning edition, he was going to take her to Central Park. She missed the outdoors. Even if it was just walking to work, she needed to feel the sun on her back. She saw the doorknob turn and before the door even opened, she was on her feet with her shoes on.  
  
"Looks like someone's ready ta go?" Spot said jokingly. "I dunno, I think I'm gonna sit and rest for a while." He sat in the chair.  
  
"Conlon! This isn't funny! Come on! Oh, I hate you!" She said while laughingly trying to pull him out of his chair.  
  
"Oh, I'se sorry, were we supposed ta go somewhere taday?" He asked. If looks could kill, he would have gone straight to hell. "Fine, fine, if ya insist." And with that, they headed out of her prison.  
  
On their way to Central Park, Spot stopped and bought her a rose. She felt her heart flutter and butterflies in her stomach. Stop, just STOP! You can't like him! Well, you can like him, but you can't like him! Shit McCartle. Shit.  
  
When they reached Central Park, Tara saw a group of familiar faces, and tried to turn away before they noticed her. But unfortunately, she was too late.  
  
"Tara!!" They yelled. She heard the fake enthusiasm in their voices and prepared herself for what was coming. Spot just stood there, not knowing what to do. He saw that she was uneasy about seeing these girls, but he was at a loss for words.  
  
"Tara, darling, how have you been?" Marie, the leader of the pack of bitches asked. "How's the family? Oh, oops. I'm so sorry darling. I forgot. You poor dear."  
  
"You didn't forget and you know it Marie. Stop trying to put on a front." Tara said haltingly.  
  
"Ooh, careful Marie. Don't make her mad. You don't know what she'll do." Chloe, the girl who tried desperately to be like Marie said.  
  
That one hit a little too close to home. "Your right. I mean, my father killed his own wife, who knows what I'll do. I don't even like you guys. Yes, you had better watch your backs." Tara warned.  
  
"Oh come off of your high horse Tara. You may have been the shit back then, before your father killed your mother, but you're not anymore. I mean, just take a look at yourself. You're dirt, you're filth. Your nothing." Marie bit back.  
  
Before Spot could say anything to shut the bitch up, Tara took action. The crack that went through the air when Tara's fist connected with Marie's nose was the most satisfying thing that he'd heard in a while. While Marie's entourage crowded around their wounded leader, Spot steered Tara way.  
  
"You okay?" He asked carefully. He was worried that she would be upset at the harsh words thrown at her.  
  
"Yeah...you know? That really felt good." She said with a laugh.  
  
"Well, for dat little move, I'm buying ya lunch."  
  
Tara laughed but her thoughts were elsewhere. Chloe's comment struck her deep. If her father could do that to his own wife, what was she capable of? She took such great pleasure in hurting Marie, but had it accomplished anything? Her stomach churned. What if her father's sickness was hereditary? Throughout the rest of the afternoon and most of the night, that question caused her great agony. 


	7. Chapter Seven

A/N: Skyline Blade, thank you for your review! I love having new readers/reviewers. But where have my old reviewers gone?!? Clover, did I lose you? Where have you gone? I don't see you! And Morgan and KatFightOnSkis, you can't leave me hangin' with just one review! Come on people! Is it getting boring? Fine, you want a twist; I'll give you a twist. You guys asked for it... (Evil laugh). Enjoy!!  
  
Chapter Seven  
  
Tara started working again, not as much as before, but it was still work. She was getting so restless, and when she once dreaded work, she now savored it. Besides, when she was recovering, she didn't have enough money to pay off the rent and had to sell most of her pieces of jewelry. Each time she sold one more off, it felt as if she was selling a part of herself. With each gift sold, a memory of a happy time she had with her parents went with it. Slowly, her life was vanishing before her very eyes. She told no one about this. It was one more thing that she held onto deep inside of herself.  
  
Tara looked out her window in anticipation. Spot was supposed to walk her to work today, and she couldn't wait. They had spent so much time together in the past few days, and each time, she felt another piece of her heart defrost and warm to him. Rather than trying to shun him away, she was trying to bring him closer. Tara was afraid of her feelings for him. She had never felt this way with anybody.  
  
Sure, she had had crushes on boys before, a mild amusement at their antics, but they were easily brushed away. Spot was unlike anyone she had ever met, which is the reason she was trying to hold on to him.  
  
She heard a knock at her door and a smile lit her face. Spot walked in and felt a weight lift off of his shoulders. God she was beautiful. She had gotten tan in the last week, and that only helped to bring out the blue in her eyes. Under his watch she had gained flesh, and she was radiant. He looked forward everyday to walking in and seeing that smile greet him.  
  
"Ready for work?" he asked. She nodded anxiously.  
  
"Let's go den." And with that, they made their way to Razini's Place.  
  
"Hey, I know dat you're workin' and all, but all of da boys are goin' ta Medda's tonight, you wanna go wid me?" He asked nervously.  
  
"I don't know. I've been so tired after work lately that I think that I'm just going to go home and sleep." She said, depressed. She really wanted to go, and Spot could see that, but she needed her rest.  
  
"Dat's fine. Well, we're here. I'll see ya tomorrow, same time?" He asked. She nodded, gave him a hug and went in.  
  
At the end of her shift, rather than feeling tired, she felt energized. And on a split second decision, she decided to go to Medda's. She decided to say screw it, she was going to tell Spot how she felt tonight. She ran back to her apartment to change, and she felt the butterflies in her stomach.  
  
She decided to change into a simple black skirt. It was a little tighter around the waist and tapered out a bit at the bottom. It was one of her favorites. She chose her light blue blouse. It was originally supposed to button all the way up into the high neck fashion, but she had taken off a few of the buttons so that it was open two inches below her collarbone. She finished off her outfit with her mother's favorite necklace. The chain of the necklace alternated between small dark blue beads and pressed silver designs. At the bottom of the necklace was a large dark blue oval stone. It was set in the same pressed silver design as its chain. She loved it.  
  
She looked in the mirror and for the first time in a while, she was happy with how she looked. With nerves driving her off the wall she mad her way to Manhattan. Her destination: Medda's.  
  
Tara walked through the door of Medda's and was immediately greeted by a cloud of cigarette smoke. She made her way through the crowd, scanning the mass for Spot. She felt someone tap her on the shoulder, and hoping it was Spot, she turned and was disappointed. It was his friend Jack from the Manhattan newsies.  
  
"Hey Tara, how're ya feelin'?" He asked, but like her, his eyes were scanning the crowd.  
  
"I feel a lot better, thanks to Spot. By the way, have to seen him?"  
  
Jack looked nervous for some reason. "Nope, nope. Haven't seen him at all. Sorry." She saw his eyes focus on something behind her and then look away guiltily. Turning, she saw what he had seen.  
  
Spot was sitting at a table, his hand holding a glass of beer, his lap holding something entirely different. There was a girl there, Tara couldn't see her face, but that was because it was on the side of his neck, kissing it. Tara felt every ounce of strength desert her.  
  
She saw one of his friends walk up to him and tap him on the shoulder. He listened to what his friend was saying and she saw his face go pale. He looked in her direction and his eyes were filled with sorrow. He stood up to go over her, and she could see his mouth move to say her name, but she didn't stay to hear it. Tara turned on her heel and left Medda's. She felt tears that she had held in for so long slide down her face as she walked through the door. She felt a hand grasp her arm.  
  
"Tara, wait. Let me explain." Spot said. She yanked her arm out of his grasp and kept walking. This time Spot grabbed her arm and turned her around. "Will you just listen?" He asked, his eyes pleading.  
  
"Listen to what? 'Oh, sorry Tara, but you said you weren't coming. How was I supposed to know? So I just grabbed some whore off the streets and waited to have a good time.' Is that what I'm supposed to listen to? How dare you. I hate you Spot Conlon. I never want to see you again! Do you hear me?" She heard her voice rise and then end on a sob.  
  
"Tara, ya don't mean that. I mean, ya can't..." but he got no further.  
  
Tara slapped him hard across his face. She recoiled, amazed at what se had done, and the tears kept streaming down her face. She heard another voice from behind Spot and he heart broke even more with her words.  
  
"I'm no whore." The girl she saw kissing him told her.  
  
"Oh yeah? Then what are you, if you don't mind me asking?" Tara replied bitterly.  
  
"I'm his girlfriend." Tara couldn't believe it. How could he have the gall to act like that with her, to make her feel the way she did when she was with him, and worse, when she was away from him.  
  
"So what was I then Spot? Was I a game? How long until the womanizing Spot Conlon bangs the bitch?" She asked, full of betrayal. "Well here, you win." She grabbed his hand and pressed it to her breast. "Do you just want to fuck me, Spot? Is this what you want? Well, it's yours." Spot yanked his hand away.  
  
"No." He replied sadly. He could feel his eyes sting from sadness.  
  
"You are so full of shit." And with that, she turned her back on him.  
  
He reached out to take her arm again. "Don't touch me! Don't you dare touch me! You have no right."  
  
Tara turned on her heel and left then, feeling more alone and more betrayed than she did after her parents died.  
  
"Tara..." Spot whispered softly as an unfelt tear ran down his face. He had finally lost her. 


	8. Chapter Eight

A/N: Hey guys, thank you all for those great reviews, it was as hard for me to write that chapter as it was for you. I don't know where I want to take the next couple of chapters bear with me, please? BlackWiltedRose, thank you for loving the fic! I'm glad that you like the twist. And Morgan, it isn't lame that you look for new chapters every day, I write them every day. Which one takes more time? ;o) Boys do suck, you got that right! And iaintgottaname, you rock too!! Thank you for reading and reviewing. And The Angry Princess, be patient! I don't even know what will happen!! Clover, your back!!! Don't go crazy please!! Well everybody, here we go!  
  
Chapter Eight  
  
Tara threw herself into work. She didn't want to think about that lying bastard anymore than she had to. But the times that she did were gut- wrenching. She thought of him at night, about how he would not be sleeping next to her, but some other girl. She thought of him in the mornings, how he would try not to wake her up getting ready at such an early time. She would just lay there and watch him. And she thought of him in between those times, wondering if he was kissing some other girl, holding her hand, making her feel as if the world was perfect.  
  
"Hey, Tara!" You wanna stop daydreaming?" Tony, her boss instructed her with a grin.  
  
"Oh, sorry. My thoughts were drifting." She replied guiltily. Damn that Spot! She couldn't even work without him being in her head.  
  
"Well, I'm gonna need you to stay late and finish up with the dishes. Ryan just left, his wife went into labor." Tara smiled. Ryan had been waiting for this day since he found out that his wife was pregnant.  
  
"That's fine." She replied. Maybe that work would get her mind off of Spot. Probably not, but there's always hope. After all everybody was gone and all of her tables were cleaned and set, she picked up the bus bucket and made her way into the back with it. There really weren't that many dishes to do. But unfortunately, the bastard came back into her head.  
  
It took her twice as long to clean those damn dishes as she thought. Tara looked at the clock on the wall before she left. Two o'clock. Shit. It was a good thing that she didn't have to work tomorrow morning. She glanced at the pile of tips that the waitresses and waiters left her. It was a pathetic pile. Looks like she was going to have to sell her last piece of jewelry. She dreaded doing that, because after that, the only thing that she would have left that was of some value was her mother's pieces. Her heart broke at the thought of not having them.

She made her way back to her apartment quickly, knowing from personal experience that the streets were dangerous at this time. As her apartment came into view, she stopped short. Spot was sitting at the bottom of her steps, his head in his hands. She almost cried.  
  
Tara gathered up all of her courage and walked towards him. "Spot, I thought I told you that I never wanted to see you again. What are you doing here?" She asked calmly.  
  
"Tara, just hear me out, please?" He begged. When Tara merely raised her left eyebrow, he continued on. "I broke up with Jessica."  
  
"You want a prize?" She asked coldly.  
  
"But, I mean, I thought you would be happy fer me, fer us..."  
  
"Spot, I don't feel anything for you." She said. She thanked God for the darkness of the night so he couldn't see her tears.  
  
"No! Dat's a lie!! You can't mean dat!!!" He pleaded.  
  
"It's true. Look, I had fun, okay? We had some great times, but that was then. Thank you for taking care of me, it was sweet. But that's all. I'll see you around." And with that, she tried to pass him up to steps. He grabbed her arm.  
  
"You don't mean dat. Look at you, yer cryin'!"  
  
"I don't cry. I didn't cry for my parents, and I'll be damned if I'm going to cry for you." And she walked up the stairs and into her apartment, leaving Spot there with tears streaming down his face.(One Week Later)  
  
She was out of money. No. She couldn't be! The money from her last piece of jewelry and her last memory had only gotten her through the week. She looked lovingly at her mother's jewelry. She had to. Shit. Now that her memories were gone, she had to sell her mother's. God, why are you so cruel? Why was he out to get her? Wasn't he happy yet? Why didn't he just kill her? But he had, she realized. When she saw Spot with that other girl, her heart had died. A tear escaped her eye and she wiped it away quickly. No, Damn it! She couldn't cry! She wouldn't!  
  
Tara looked at her mother's jewelry and picked the one with the most worth. It would get her through the days longer than the others would. It was the blue one that she had worn the night her new world had come crashing down upon her old one. As there were happy memories with this necklace, there were bad ones. As Tara told herself to suck it up, she grabbed her purse, and made her way outside to the jewelers.  
  
Spot sat in on the poker game. He just needed a little bit more money until he could buy the lodging house. That was his dream. He knew that he couldn't be a newsie much longer, but if he bought the house, he would make a good profit and still be with his friends. No body knew this about him, and he was going to keep it that way.  
  
Spot inwardly grinned. He knew that he had this hand in the bag, and from the looks of it, this pot would bring him more than enough money to buy the house. He didn't want to tell his newsies until after the hand was played. He knew his boys, and if they knew what he had intended they would purposely botch their game so that he could win, and he wouldn't be able to take the money. He didn't take charity from nobody. His thoughts drifted to Tara, and he hoped that she would take him back when he had enough money to support her.  
  
He laid down his hand. "Full house boys, looks like dis is me lucky night!" His boys groaned. Spot always won. Spot decided that he was going to tell them his news. "Look boys, I just wanted ta tell ya dat I'm not gonna be a newsie no more." The guys looked up in shock. Not be a newsie? But that was who he was! It was his life. "Dis money dat I just won gave me enough money ta buy da lodging house. I'm gonna run it. Is dat okay wit you guys?"  
  
The boys were shocked. Finally, one of them spoke up. "Well, you'se been bossin' us around since day one, so I guess it won't be dat different." The other boys laughed at that.  
  
Spot grinned. He was hoping that they would be okay with the news. He jumped down from the chair and started to the door. "Well boys, I'se got some business ta conduct. You wouldn't understand." And with that, he closed the door and promptly heard various items being thrown in his direction. He smirked at that, and made his way downstairs to talk to Mr. Novak, the building's current owner.  
  
Mr. Novak had been expecting this. He knew that the moment the boy had come, he would buy the lodging house, like he himself had wanted to do so many years ago. Spot had always been so full of questions about how to run it, and by now, Mr. Novak was ready to retire. He gave Spot a figure, knowing full well that it was a good ¼ below it's worth. Spot was in shock. Not only could be buy with lodging house, he could get a good apartment and still have money left over. He agreed with the price, his eyes glazed over in confusion. He held out his hand, and Mr. Novak shook his head. Spot looked at him questioningly.  
  
"That's no way to seal a deal Spot. I was a newsie once too, now, let's shake properly." And with that, he spat in his hand. Spot smiled and did the same and the grasped each other's hands. It was better than he expected. He knew that Tara would want him now. He would have her back. 


	9. Chapter Nine

Hey you guys, I am soooo sorry it took me so long to update! Don't hate me!! Angelfish, thank you so much for liking it! Morgan, you rock also! Dimonah Tralon, thank you for your review. And last and definitely the least, Disturbed-girl, you are a jerk! So what if I told the cop to shut up, it was in the context of the situation! Now everybody thinks I'm some sort of juvenile delinquent. I'm really not you guys!! I hate you Nicki! My birthday present better be good! :oP  
  
Chapter Nine  
  
Tara grabbed a warm glass off of the shelf at Razini's Place and proceeded to fill it with cold water. Without realizing what had happened, the glass split in half and sliced open her palm. Shit! She thought. It was just one more thing. Since the beginning of the week everything had been going downhill, and fast. She was still mourning the fact that she had to sell her mother's blue necklace, but it had given her enough money to get through the rest of the month.  
  
She looked at the blood welling from her cut and sighed. Tara rounded the corner to find Mr. Razini chatting with one of the regulars.  
  
"Mr. Razini, could I have something to wrap my hand in?" She asked, not wanting to interrupt.  
  
"What happened, Bella?" He asked, surprised to see her bleeding steadily.  
  
"Nothing, I wasn't paying attention and I filled a warm glass with ice water." She said rolling her eyes.  
  
"Well, take your break and wrap up your hand. Be back in about twenty minutes." He told her, and with that, he went back to schmoozing with the customer.  
  
"Gee, thanks a whole lot for the help." Tara muttered. She went outside and made a pathetic attempt at wrapping her hand.  
  
After it was sufficiently wrapped, not a good job, but it would do, she lit her cigarette. She inhaled the sweet, biting smoke felt the nicotine clear her mind. Tara sat on a crate and leaned her head against the brick of the building.  
  
That's how Spot saw her. Her beauty hit him in the gut and made his breath stop. Her fragility made him weak with his need to help her. But her strength made him afraid of what she was thinking. That's how he thought of her. Beautiful, fragile, dangerous. He knew that she held his whole future in the palm of her hand and that was dangerous.  
  
Tara felt his presence before she saw him. The emotion in his crystal blue eyes made her stop herself before brushing him off.  
  
"Spot. What are you doing here?" She asked.  
  
"I just wanted ta see you." He told her honestly. "What happened ta your hand?" He asked, worry filling his eyes.  
  
"Oh, nothing." She remarked offhandedly as she brushed her bangs out of her eyes. "I just did a dumb thing."  
  
"Can I see it?" He asked. And without her assent, he gently took her hand in his.  
  
Spot unwrapped the bandage and looked at the wound. It would heal clean. He had seen many cuts and bruises in his life, and saw that she had cleaned it well. He gently wrapped the bandage back around her hand and when he was finished, without taking his eyes off of hers, he pressed his lips to the center of her palm.  
  
Tara felt her heart pound out of her chest. Goddamn it! She thought. She was over him. She told herself that everyday. Oh, screw it. And with that thought, she took his face between her hands and pressed her lips to his. He started for a moment, but after he got his feet back under him, he took the kiss to the next level.  
  
Spot teased her lips with his tongue and when she parted them, he slid his tongue in, tasting her. She met his action with her own and they pressed themselves closer to each other.  
  
Tara slowly backed away from him and without letting fear take over, she asked him to wait for her until she got out.  
  
"I'd wait forever for you, Tara."  
  
Tara smiled to herself and eased back into the building.  
  
After Tara signed out, she went out the back door, and saw Spot sitting on the crate that she had sat on just a couple hours ago. He looked so handsome. Clean, strong lines accented his body. His face also held such strength with his square jaw. But his eyes held such warmth.  
  
"Spot." She called softly. He opened his eyes and stood up quickly. "Walk me back to my apartment?" She asked uncertainly.  
  
"Of course."  
  
They walked saying nothing to each other, and when they reached her apartment door, she leaned against it.  
  
Spot pressed his length against her and pressed his hands against the door next to the sides of her head. Tara lifted her face for a kiss, but this time, she was the one to take it further.  
  
"Stay with me tonight." She half asked, half told him.  
  
"Are you sure?" He asked tentatively.  
  
"I'm not sure about anything anymore, but I know that I need you to be with me."  
  
And when she opened the door to her apartment, she opened the door to her heart. Spot walked into both.  
  
Tara's dream returned, but in a different form. She heard a gunshot and realized what had happened. She saw herself standing over the bed, the gun in her hand, and Spot was slumped over against the wall, blood pouring out of his mouth. He just stared at her, accusations easily read through his expressive eyes. He looked at her as if she was crazy, and she knew that he was right.  
  
Tara woke with a start. She held the sheet to her chest as she sat up and looked at Spot. What had she done? She was only going to hurt him. She knew that she was going to have to drive him away tomorrow emotionally, before she physically hurt him. Knowing that killed her. She loved him so much, but she knew that the same madness that had taken hold of her father had taken hold of her. She got up, put some clothes on, and fell asleep on the same chair that Spot had fallen asleep in not too long ago. 


	10. Chapter Ten

A/N: Morgan, The Angry Princess, and Dimonah Tralon: Thank you for your reviews! I hope you like this chapter as much as the others. Thanks again!  
  
Chapter Ten  
  
Spot woke before the sunrise, as usual. He stretched his hand over to his right, and felt nothing. The pillow was cold. As he opened his eyes in confusion, he saw Tara asleep on the chair. She was so beautiful. When she slept, she looked like an angel. He smiled to himself, and felt his love for her course through all of the veins in his body.  
  
"Tara."  
  
Tara opened her eyes quickly. Spot was lying on the bed, staring at her with such love in his eyes. It broke her heart. But she knew what must be done.  
  
"Good morning. You should be off, shouldn't you? You have to sell your papers." And with that, she got up, and went to her dresser.  
  
"I don't sell anymore." He started; ready to tell her his big news.  
  
"What? Why? Where will you find work?" She asked, and then cursed herself for sounding concerned.  
  
"Tara, I bought da lodging house!"  
  
"Oh...that's nice. Why?" She asked without emotion.  
  
"Well, ever since I was little, when I became a newsie, I had wanted to. Aren't ya happy fer me?" Spot was worried; this wasn't the reaction he had expected. But last night wasn't what he had expected either.  
  
"Sure. Um, congratulations." She turned away at that.  
  
"What's wrong wit you?" He asked.  
  
"Nothing, why must something always be wrong with me?"  
  
"Cuz something always is." He said simply.  
  
"What is that supposed to mean? Oh, I'm so sorry that I'm not jumping for joy because you bought a run down house." She was dying inside, but this had to be done.  
  
"A run down house? Is dat all it is to you? Dat was my life! I had nowhere to go and dey took me in like a brother. Dat's my home." He couldn't believe how she was reacting.  
  
"Oh. Well maybe you should go back home now, Spot." She still had her back to him, and he couldn't see the tears flowing freely down her face.  
  
"What is wrong wid you? Didn't last night mean anything ta you?"  
  
"Sure, it was fun. Thank you, Spot. Now..." And she opened the door.  
  
"I'm not leavin'. Tell me what's wrong!" He yelled.  
  
"Fine, last night was a mistake. That's what's wrong."  
  
"You don't mean dat! How could you say last night was wrong? Everything that happened was right!"  
  
"Spot, we can't be together. Don't you see that? We're of different classes. Maybe not materially, but where it counts. As I said, last night was fun, but that's it." All of her tears were dry. She knew what needed to be done.  
  
"You don't mean dat. I can see it in your eyes. Now tell me da truth." He pleaded.  
  
Tara broke. "We can't be together! I can't love you! You know what happened with my parent, hell; everybody in New York knows what happened to my parents. I'll just hurt you in the end."  
  
"No, yer takin' care of dat now. Why do ya think that your gonna hurt me?"  
  
"Last night, I had a dream, Spot. It was the same dream that I have every night, but different. Instead of my parents, it was us Spot! It was horrible! I can't let that happen, for your sake. Now, please leave." The tears again started flowing down her cheek.  
  
"I'll never hurt you Tara, ever. What happened to yer parents won't happen ta us." He promised.  
  
"I know that you would never hurt me Spot!"  
  
"Then what is da matter?!?" He exploded.  
  
"I'm afraid that I'll hurt you! Don't you understand?"  
  
He slowly felt comprehension dawn on him. "Tara, you're not your father. Dat won't happen."  
  
"How do you know that? Huh? How can you be so very certain? 'Sin's of the father' Spot. My father was mad. It's in my blood. You can't change that."  
  
"That's not true Tara."  
  
"How do you know that?!? Tell me Spot! Please, enlighten me with your eternal wisdom." She said bitterly.  
  
"Because if dat was true, I'd be a drunk and a child abuser." He said simply.  
  
"How do know you won't be in the future? You don't know."  
  
He looked at her with so much hurt, she almost crumbled. She almost told him how much she loved him, and that no matter what she said, it wasn't the truth.  
  
"Now, please leave Spot."  
  
"Is dat what you really want?"  
  
No! No! No! I want you to hold, and love me, and be with me forever. Tell me everything is going to be okay! Her mind yelled.  
  
"Yes." She said coldly. Spot put on his shoes, gave her one long look, and did what she asked him to do.  
  
Tara walked to the bed and laid on it. It was still warm from Spot's body. She laid her head on the pillow that still smelled of him, and wept. She cried the tears that she had not cried before. Tears for her mother, her father, herself, and Spot. Her tears come from deep within her soul, and she felt such anguish she had never thought that she could ever feel. She cried herself empty, and then fell into a dreamless sleep. Tara didn't know that while she was crying, her mother was crying for her in heaven. 


	11. Chapter Eleven

A/N:Hey you guys, I am so so so so soooo sorry that it took me so long to update this! Hate me if you will. I haven't been in town for more than two days for the past month, so I didn't have a chance. Also, this is my last chapter, and I am really going to miss Tara and Spot. I never thought I'd say that, but I am. Who knows, maybe I'll write another story and incorporate them into it?!? Well, here goes, the conclusion to Blessed Be!

Chapter Eleven

Days rolled by. It felt as if Tara was living in a haze. The streets of New York were a blur that she could not seem to focus on. She performed her job everyday as if she were a machine, not really understanding what she was doing while she was doing it, but still getting it done. Cruelly enough, Spot was always in the back of her mind. All that she could see was his face as he left. There was such hurt in his eyes, such pain. Just thinking about it made her want to cry. She knew that he would be alright; Spot was a survivor, unlike her. She was like her father.

Tara sat on her bed, staring at the gun. Dangerous, gleaming, and enticing. When had it come to this? Tara asked herself. It was a useless question, because she knew when it happened. It was when she decided to throw out any promise of a future when she hurt Spot. She had been right all along, she was like her father. How could she not be? Just look at what she was going to do. She had even written a note to Spot, if he would even want to read it. She didn't blame him if he didn't want to; she wouldn't.

Tara searched her mind, trying to find a reason that she shouldn't just pull the trigger. There was nothing, she was nothing, and her future only held more nothingness. So here's for nothingness, she decided.

And by placing the barrel of the gun in her mouth, she changed that future of nothingness.

Spot was wandering the streets of Brooklyn, wondering how much time he should give Tara before going over to her apartment and personally knocking some sense into her. He knew why she treated him like that on the last day that they had talked. She was afraid. She thought of herself as her father, and she was afraid for Spot's well-being. He shook his had at her idiocy and stubbornness. As he was walking by a small consignment shop, he spotted something familiar in the window. And by walking in the store, he confirmed his suspicions. It was the necklace that Tara had been wearing the night at Medda's. That fateful night when he realized that he not only loved her, but he also lost her. She had mentioned that it was her mother's. She must have really needed the money to sell it, he knew how attached she was to her mother's jewelry. He suddenly got worried. If she was so poor off, he needed to help her.

When he asked the cashier how much the necklace was, she told him an outrageous amount. He knew that she had seen how quickly he had spotted the necklace and walked straight to it. Spot didn't care. He knew that he needed to get to Tara, and quickly. He tossed down thirty dollars on the counter, and ran quickly out of the shop, making a beeline for Tara's apartment.

Spot dashed up the stairs of her apartment and pounded on her door. There was no answer. He tried the knob and realized that it was locked. Spot backed up ten steps and ran straight at the door. At the last moment, he dropped his shoulder and slammed into the door, knocking it off of it's hinges.

The first thing that Spot noticed when he walked into the room was the gun on the floor. His heart stopped. He looked at the dresser and saw a note addressed to him. Tears welled up in his eyes and started to fall. Spot looked on the bed and saw Tara's unmoving form. As if in slow motion, he made his way to the bed, knowing what he would find.

Without realizing that he was doing so, he dropped to his knees next to the bed and lay his head down next to her body, crying for his lost love.

"Spot?"

His head rose slowly, thinking he was hearing things. Tara was alive, her eyes were open, and she was looking at him with curiosity in their depths.

"Tara...I...I...I thought you had..." he couldn't get the words out. He took her hand, opened her palm, and placed a kiss in the center of it.

A bitter smile crossed over Tara's face. "I tried. I wanted to. Hell, I even had the barrel in my mouth. But, I couldn't do it. I realized that nothing could be so bad as to want to do something that final."

Tara covered Spot's hand with her own and looked into his eyes.

"Spot, do know what that means? I can't be like him. I'm not like him. He gave up without a fight, he took the coward's way out, and I'm not gonna do that." Tara didn't realize it, but tears were flowing freely down her cheek.

"Tara, I thought that I would give you enough time to sort things out, but I can't." She looked at him curiously. "Tara, I need you. I thought that everything in my life was perfect before you entered it. I need you, you complete me."

Tara couldn't believe what she was hearing. It was too good to be true. "Spot, I hurt you so badly, how can you still want me?"

"Because what we had together, Tara was right. It was good. I need that goodness in my life. I love you, Tara. So I'm asking you, will you live with me in my home and in my heart?" And with that, he took out her mother's necklace.

Tara couldn't breathe. She couldn't speak. All she could do was nod her head and launch herself into Spots arms.

With her lips pressed into his neck, she whispered her undying love to him.

He regretfully set himself apart from Tara and clasped the cherished necklace around her slender neck. Tara knew that with the necklace Spot was not only giving her back her past, but promising her the future. It may not always be perfect, but Spot was right, what they made together was right. Not only was the promise of her future in her arms and around her neck, but it was also in her womb. She couldn't wait to tell him.


End file.
